


Written in Red

by alwaysforevan



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Weird Use of Lipstick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysforevan/pseuds/alwaysforevan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiyong writes his secrets in red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written in Red

**Author's Note:**

> \+ Written on Sunday, as a response to GD's lipstick CF. I'm kind of obsessed with it.  
> \+ Beta'd by the wonderful Evan, so all lingering mistakes are mine. Please point them out.

Lipstick.

 

Seung Ri had to admit that the utensil of choice was a little strange—sticky, messy. In all probability, the words wouldn’t even be legible. They would be smudged, unrecognizable.

 

Seung Ri didn’t even know where Ji Yong got the lipstick from; he’d never seen it on the older man before, never seen the other express any interest in obtaining it. It was weird, to say the least, when Ji Yong had asked to do this.

 

But Ji Yong had looked at him like he needed this, like the little red lipstick could solve all their problems. “Let me write on you,” he had said, and how could Seung Ri say no to that—to him?

 

So Seung Ri let him write—that was what Ji Yong did best, after all. Seung Ri let Ji Yong run the red down his back, down his sides, drawing letters in English that he’d probably never be able to see, never be able to read, never be able to keep and remember.

 

Seung Ri could feel it, though. He could feel the need with which Ji Yong drew every line, the reverence in every word, the pressure of Ji Yong’s writing against his skin. Whatever was being written was precious to Ji Yong.

 

Like a secret written in red.

 

It’s a shame, Seung Ri thought idly, that it’ll all be washed off in the morning.

 

Yet, for the night, they had this. They had their skin pressed up against each other, Ji Yong’s doubtlessly beautiful words written across Seung Ri’s back, the mess of red sticky and smudged between them, the comfortable sound of breathing and heartbeats.

 

Seung Ri didn’t interrupt at all until he saw the sun beginning to shine through his windows.

 

“Hyung,” was all he said, and Seung Ri heard Ji Yong stop, exhale, and let himself drop to Seung Ri’s side. The lipstick was still in his hand.

 

Seung Ri rose from his bed, lazily roaming his drawers and closet for clothes, wandering around putting things back in their place from when he and Ji Yong had misplaced them just a couple of hours ago. He only stopped when he was about to leave for the bathroom, feeling eyes on him, on his back.

 

Seung Ri turned.

 

Ji Yong’s eyes were fixed on the red, on the words written on Seung Ri’s back, scanning them as if he needed to read them over and over to confirm that they were there—as if unfocused, suddenly desperate to keep the words he’d written.

 

Seung Ri paused. “What does it say?”

 

Whatever strange trance he’d been in, Ji Yong seemed to snap out of it, barely registering Seung Ri’s question. He hesitated, tore his eyes away from Seung Ri, and dazed up at the ceiling.

 

“Everything,” he whispered.

 

Seung Ri nodded, left the room quietly. Honestly, he thought Ji Yong’s answer was sort of unreasonable. _Everything_ couldn’t be written on his back; it simply wasn’t possible. Even if Ji Yong had written the words really small—which he hadn’t—it wouldn’t fit _everything_.

 

Still, in the bathroom, Seung Ri tried to peek at the words on his back. Like he had thought before, most of it was smeared.  Seung Ri didn’t bother trying to decipher it. He was curious, yes, but whatever was on his back was precious, unique like only Ji Yong’s words could be. So Seung Ri didn’t pry any further, didn’t try to dig in. He simply stepped in the shower and washed it all off.

 

He kept it a secret, even from himself.

 

When he came back into his room moments later, totally clean and clothed and devoid of all red, Ji Yong was dressed too, sitting at the edge of the bed. He looked at Seung Ri in an odd way—like he was in pain, like there was a hole in his chest.

 

Maybe that was where he kept his words, Seung Ri thought. Maybe, to Ji Yong, those unrecognizable words _were_ everything.


End file.
